My Name is Victory
by Patronus Charm
Summary: Katniss once noted that the children of Victors were reaped far too often for it to be a coincidence. The story of the First Quarter Qwell.


**My Name is Victory**

_By Patronus Charm_

**For those of you who know me; I'm back. I took two years off from fanfiction to work on Life and Other Writing. For those of you who do not know me, please kindly ignore my other stories. They were written during my awkward stage. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. I do, however, own a puppy. You are jealous. **

**One**

Twenty five years ago, the thirteen districts of Panem lost a war. One was obliterated, twelve were enslaved. As a reminder of our treachery, each district was forced to sacrifice one boy and one girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen to compete in a fight to the death on live TV.

Twenty four Tributes, to remind us that should we rebel, the Capitol will kill us all. One Victor, to give us hope that one day things might be better.

My name is Victory Prine. I should not exist. The Capitol would prefer if I did not exist. Sometimes, I think even my own father would prefer if I did not exist.

He was a Career, as we call them in District 8, where I grew up. A Tribute from District 2, who was trained at a special academy from the time he could walk, until he was sixteen, when he volunteered. Three years later, he was a mentor who had produced three consecutive Victors. Highly respected. One of the best, they said. Until he met my mother. The first ever volunteer from an outlying District. Her little sister was very sick, and would have surely died, if it weren't for my mother. Her family was made up of poor textile workers who could not afford treatment in their wildest dreams. She knew that there was only one way to save her sister's life; win the Hunger Games. And she did.

It came down to a bloody fight between my father's Tribute and my mother. The odds were not in her favor; she had been horribly maimed earlier in the games, and would have likely succumbed to death within a few days without the help of Flux, the boy from 2. She very nearly lost; Flux had her pinned, inches away from the killing blow, until she kissed him, full on the mouth. He, a thirteen year old boy who had known nothing but killing his entire life, was rendered senseless just long enough for her to pick up her knife and pierce his heart.

For the first time in history, District Eight had a Victor. For the first time in history, my father had lost. He became obsessed with the seventeen year old girl from a worthless District who had stolen his glory. He was obsessed with _how _she had done it. My father, raised a killer, defeated by a kiss. When the broken woman returned to the Hunger Games, without the sister she had risked her life for, beaten into shape like all other outlying Victors, he sought her out. She wouldn't even look at him. She couldn't, without seeing Flux, only thirteen, who she kissed and killed. Much the same way the Peacekeeper killed her sister, except he did not stop with the kiss, and she took much longer to die.

My father did not understand this. He only understood that he had lost and had now lost everything he had worked his entire life for. He had fallen from grace, and so, he sent his tributes after hers with vengeance. He taunted her for three years, but she still would say nothing. Finally, the second year they were both mentors, she snapped. She told him everything the Capitol had done to her and called him a monster for what he had done, both in the arena and out of it.

She was the first person who had ever hated _him_, not the fact that he had lost.

The fourth year, the girl from District 5 took the games. District 2 had not had a Victor in over three years. The odds were not in the Capitol's favor, and so they did something about it. That year, the Gamemakers reaped my father's twelve year old brother and froze him to death.

The only one who seemed to understand was my mother.

Nine months later, I was born. They named me Victory, because they had created life in a place solely devoted to destroying it.

My name is Victory. For the Districts, not the Capitol. For life and love, not hate and death. I am not supposed to exist. The Capitol would prefer that I did not exist. Today is Reaping day.

They will get their wish.


End file.
